Or something like that.
Keeping a steady temperature on this little modified icebox of mine is turning out to be a bit of beggardly headache. It wants to go high, it wants to go low. It only wants to stay at a steady 99 degrees if I am actively staring at the thermometer. The minute I don't it strays anywhere from 95-105 degrees and I start another set of gray hairs. And I shouldn't do that, because the Banshees aren't going to have any of the fun of turning me completely snow-white when they hit adolescence -- a treat that my parents have earned, even if the Banshees have not.
Oh yes. I got more hatching eggs today; I bid on five and the woman generously sent me seven runner duck eggs. I was hoping I could call the color since she advertised having white runners, but there's nothing in the fine print that says the bidder gets to choose, so I'm hoping that one of the hatchees of this batch is a nice, snowy white. I'm not planning on telling the Dear Beleaguered Spouse about this...I can trust that y'all can keep a secret?
But this is The Last Batch, because summer is coming and we don't have working a.c.. It's hard enough keeping a steady temp without taking on a scorching ambient temp as well. It's just as well since I really do need to get into The Wilderness and carve out a duck run/tomato patch. I'm getting day-old ducklings next week and they're going to need to go somewhere to keep them out from under the dog's feet.
It's been fun watching the Banshees' faces light up when they're told that something warm and feathery and alive might come out of this little egg, and seeing their reactions when they glimpse the inside of the egg during candling. All those little bitty blood veins running hither and yon, and DBS swears that if you look closely enough you can see the tiny avian heart beating. We're hoping to get usable pictures tomorrow, knock wood. One week down, three more to go for the Silver Appleyards.
I still have to wait.